Breach
by Mindful Demon
Summary: Tells the Tunnels story from Styx point of view w/ the Rebecca Twins as the main characters. T for language, realistic violence, and maybe lemons later, in which case the ratings will change. Pairings are Rebecca One x Elliott and Rebecca Two x OC
1. Chapter 1

_Breach is a Tunnels Fanfiction, written by ME. Tunnels/The Highfield Mole and all related characters are copyright Roderick Gordon and Bryan Williams. Don't sue me!_

Just to clear things up, in this story, the Rebecca Twins will have separate names. Calling them Rebecca One and Rebecca Two can get quite tiresome.

Rebecca One= Rachel

Rebecca Two= Rebecca

**Breach: Chapter One**

She opened her eyes, looking around. She couldn't move, nor could she talk. She was trapped in her own body. Down an alleyway in the Rookeries. She cursed silently. She realized now that it had all been a setup. And she had played right into their hands. She knew that now the only thing she could do was prepare herself mentally. She couldn't see any way out. One of the boys broke off from the main group and walked over to her. He had blond hair and green eyes, and his face was kind. He knelt over her, meeting her terrified gaze.

"I wont let them hurt you." He said solemnly. She looked at him, managing to calm herself down somewhat.

"Hey James, don't jump the gun! You'll get your turn!" One of the others cackled.

"Yes, oh how upset daddy's going to be when he finds his little girl..." She almost panicked. Were they bluffing? Or maybe they really did know who she was? Her heart started to race as the boy stepped forward. He was clearly their leader. The boy called James stood up.

"No." He said, putting himself between the two. "She might be a Styx, but she doesn't deserve that."

"You're right. She _deserves_ to die. But I think I'll have a go at her first, if you don't mind." He took a step towards her. James reached out a hand and pushed him back.

"No, it's not 'alright'." He said angrily. "You'll keep your hands off her if you know what's good for you."

"Oh? And who's going to stop me? You?"

Rebecca's sister stepped out of the shadows.

"No. I am."

The group laughed.

"Look Boss, another one!"

"What should we do with this one?" More laughter.

"Well at least we won't have to share now- _urk!_" The boy fell to the ground, a throwing knife embedded in his chest. The remaining members of the gang looked at Rachel incredulously. Her hand resting on the hilt of her scythe, she looked completely unmoved.

"You, you _killed_ him!" One stuttered. She shrugged nonchalantly.

"More than he deserved, I suppose." The gang's leader stepped back, bringing his hands up in an apologetic gesture.

"Please, we're sorry! Just take her! Don't hurt us!" Rachel shook her head in mock sadness, smiling sardonically.

"Too late for that, I'm afraid. You've drugged, assaulted, and battered a very high ranking member of the Styx Division. And from what I heard a few minutes ago, you were about to add rape and murder to the list; am I right? Consider it a gift. Normally, punishment for crimes like that would be far worse than death. You should be glad, really; I _should_ cart you back to the Hold and let this girl's father deal with you. But luckily for you, this girl is my sister and you've _really_ pissed me off. So I'm going to deal with you right here and now." The boy swallowed, and took another step back. Smiling, she attacked. Kicking his feet out from under him, she drew her scythe in one fluid movement and slipped it between the gap in his ribs. He hit the ground with a dull thud. He hadn't even had time to scream.

James watched her with growing wonder as she cut them all down, her blade flickering from side to side like lighting in the dark. The fight, if one could call it such, lasted all of a few seconds. The drug began to wear off, and Rebecca recovered her voice just as Rachel looped her arm around James' neck, pressing her scythe to his throat.

"Wait no!" She croaked. Rachel looked up, an expression of mild interest on her face.

"Would you prefer to finish him yourself?" Regaining control of her body, Rebecca shook her head and stood up.

"He saved me." She walked over to where James knelt, Rachel's blade still at his neck. He was looking at the ground. "You saved me. Why?" He looked up at her defiantly.

"Because no one deserves that. Would you prefer I hadn't? Are you going to kill me?"

Rachel snarled.

"How _dare_ you talk to a Styx like that? You little-"

"Rachel, wait! I told you, I don't want him dead yet." Rebecca turned to look at him. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. You're going to answer, or I'll take you back to the Hold and let my sister deal with you there. We have plenty, extremely entertaining methods of making you talk back there, so I'd suggest you answer us now and save yourself the trouble. Because trust me, we _will_ get the answers we're looking for, one way or another." He swallowed, hard. "So, lets begin, shall we?" Still addressing him, she said something in Styx. He looked thoughtful.

"Yes, I speak Styx." He replied. Then, somewhat defiantly, "What do you care?" Rebecca narrowed her eyes.

"Are you going to give me a hard time? Do you _want_ us to take you back to the Hold?"

"If he wants us to take him back to the Hold, don't discourage him. I haven't been part of a good interrogation for a long, _long_ time. The Dark Light is boring as hell. At least he'd give us something to do." Rachel said happily. Rebecca shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. But something tells me he'd just spill. He doesn't look like the type that would rather die than tell us what we want to know. He wouldn't last long, not against you and I combined. He'd break in the first thirty seconds." James shivered. The two girls were talking about torturing him as casually as if they were discussing the morning paper.

"Good point. Continue." Rachel said, looking somewhat put out. Rebecca shot another question at him in Styx.

"A deserter? No." Rebecca turned back to her sister.

"Let him go." Rachel sheathed her weapon reluctantly. "Can you fight, James?" He looked surprised.

"Yes. I can. Why?"

"Ray, give him your scythe."

"What?" The two asked simultaneously.

"Give him your weapon. And I'll take my knife please." Looking apprehensive, Rachel handed the blade to him. She threw Rebecca her knife, and took a step back. "Alright, lets see what you've got." The boy nodded reluctantly, knowing he had no say in the matter. She lunged towards him, but he saw it coming and jumped out of the way of the sweep. He rolled to the side as the blade of her knife flashed dangerously close to his neck. She grinned. He was strong; a natural fighter. But he lacked the proper training to defeat her. He couldn't win. She pressed her advantage, and their weapons clashed as he blocked her attack.

James was surprised with himself. He was lasting far longer than he had though he would. He was feeling very strong, and the scythe seemed to follow his every command. But he knew it wouldn't last long. He had never fought a Styx before, but after seeing the girl's sister in action, he had a sickening feeling that she was toying with him.

She was.

Every attack he blocked, her trained eyes spotted hundreds of flaws in his defense. If she wanted too, she could kill him easily, and she knew it. But she didn't. She was intrigued by this strange boy. To back talk a Styx was something in itself. But to save one? She had never seen anything like it. He was a strange combination, neither colonist nor Styx. His outright defiance and courage absolutely _screamed_ Styx. But he had been a part of the gang that had drugged and nearly beaten her to death. The whole situation was downright confusing. How had he learned how to speak Styx? It was not something that _could_ be learned. You were either born with it, or you weren't. And to be born with it, at least one of your parents had to be a Styx. It didn't make sense. Curious to see what he would do, she left herself open.

He took advantage of it immediately, lunging towards her and knocking her off her feet. She exhaled sharply as she hit the hard stone ground, her knife skidding away into the darkness. He sat atop the dazed Styx girl, wondering what he should do next.

"Enough!" Rachel growled. He jumped up quickly. The last thing he wanted now was to offend them. Brushing herself off, Rebecca retrieved her knife from where it had fallen and strolled over to him. He shuffled his foot nervously. Was she going to kill him for winning?

"You're a natural fighter. You're strong." She noted.

"But sloppy." Rachel interjected.

"Yes, sloppy." Rebecca echoed. "But we can fix that." A shard of an idea was beginning to form in her mind, and she let it grow. "Listen James. You've got all the strength, ferocity, and courage of one of us. I'm going to recommend you as a Styx recruit, but you're going to have to work for it." Rachel looked at her sister as if she had lost her mind, but let her continue. "You're going to meet us here every night an hour after curfew. We're going to train you until you're ready to pass initiation." Rachel laughed coldly.

"Pass? Survive is more like it. He's just a colonist. No, not even; he's a thug from the Rookeries. He's not Styx material. He's going to die." James looked silently at the two.

"Shut up. Think of it this way. If he dies, you can rub it in my face later and say I was a horribly incompetent teacher." Rachel shrugged.

"Sounds good to me."

"So, as I was saying. I'm going to recommend you as a Styx recruit. I'm telling you now that you might not survive. As a matter of fact, there's a ninety-nine percent chance that you won't. We're going to train you, and hopefully by the time the test comes around, we'll have lowered that ninety-nine to a ninety-eight. In the rare occurrence that you _do_ survive, you'll be one of us. We have high standards. Don't let me down, because if you do, you'll regret it." He nodded. He had always envied the Styx, and now he had a chance to prove himself to them. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, but there was something about the twins that made him want to please them. Rebecca in particular. There was something in the way she moved, the sound of her voice... He blinked. She was a _Styx_. Not just some girl to be lusted after. Still, dangerous though he knew it would be, he had to try. He couldn't let her slip through his fingers, not when he was so close.


	2. Chapter 2

_Three days later..._

Rachel hissed with all the venom of a disturbed viper.

"Faster!" James shut his eyes tightly as sweat trickled down his forehead. His shirt was drenched, and his arms felt like they were going to fall off. He drilled the set again. The crash of metal on metal reverberated off the walls of the alleyway as his blade met Rebecca's for the hundredth time that night. They had been drilling the same combination for the last hour and a half, but the Styx girls showed no sign of stopping. Every attack met the same, infuriatingly steady resistance as the last. He was about ready to get on his knees and beg to rest when Rebecca signaled with her hand for him to stop.

"Thats enough for today-"

"No, wait. Do that last set again. Call out the strikes this time." Rachel demanded. James cursed, not even bothering to acknowledge her statement as he resumed.

"Right hand side. Backhand overhand. Left side overhand. Right side uppercut." Rachel watched him intently as he finished. There it was again! He was adding an extra strike at the end. As his blade bounced off Rebecca's, he added on a lighting fast backhand that would have been deadly if not for her sister's quick reflexes. She narrowed her eyes.

"Again!" She called out the strikes this time. "Right hand side! Backhand overhand! Left side overhand! Right side uppercut!" Even as she watched, his blade flickered out in that extra strike again. If used in a real fight, she knew the attack would have been devastating. Busy blocking the uppercut, his opponent would have been too slow to react to the unexpected backhand to their head. They would be killed instantly. At this point, Rebecca had caught on.

"You're adding an extra attack, James." She said. She hadn't noticed it until then, her natural fighting instinct as a Styx and her quick reflexes allowing her to block the attack like any other. He looked surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes. So you didn't know you were doing it?"

"I had no idea. I'm sorry." Rebecca and Rachel exchanged a meaningful glance, both understanding the significance of what they had just witnessed.

"It's alright. Just stick to what we call out from now on, alright?"

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again." Rachel nodded.

"Good. Dismissed."

Rebecca was lying on her bed in the compound, staring up at her sister's bunk above her and thinking. When she and her sister had turned thirteen, their father had informed them that as his daughters, it was their duty to continue his lineage. He had done it in a detached, formal way, not unlike one of the brutal critics she had seen on Mrs. Burrows' reality TV shows. It was common knowledge among her people that at the age of seventeen, Styx girls that didn't already have a partner they were paired with a random male somewhere around their age. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-five.… It didn't matter to them. She shivered in disgust. She didn't want that. But if James could pass the test... Well, things could be different. For both of them. Having been the one who suggested it in the first place, she knew that the Styx were planning a thorough clean up of their domain as part of the Dominion plot. In a matter of weeks, the Rookeries would be nothing more than a pile of ashes and blacked bones. And, having been the ones who offered up the idea, the twins were being given the 'privilege' of leading the attack. Now that he had entered the picture, the idea of leading a battalion of fully-armed Limiters in an attack on the Rookeries had lost some of its appeal. Seeing as both of them would be at the head of the army, it would be impossible to sneak off and warn him. He would die, just like the rest of them. She couldn't care less about the others. They were worthless and didn't deserve to live in this world, _her_ world. But he was different, because he was her one chance to live a life she actually wanted. She was confident that he would pass, of course. She had been training him alone over the past few weeks, as Rachel had had to return topsoil for the month. The test was tomorrow. He had cropped his hair short, coloring it black with dye that she had bought the last time she was topsoil. Will had teased her viciously for it of course, asking if she was going gray, but she didn't care. She knew she would get back at him eventually, as she always did.


	3. Chapter 3

James waked into the courtyard of the Compound. He looked around at the other hopefuls. None of them were in as good shape as he was, but then again, none of them had already been through a month of Styx training like he had, either. His eyes drifted over to Rebecca, who was standing on the edge of the courtyard. She gave absolutely no indication whatsoever that she had seen him.

She did, however, look worried.

That was a start.

An older Styx, traces of gray hair mixed with the usual jet-black, strode imperiously out of the main door and stood before them. It was clear that age hadn't had much of an effect on him; if anything, he was more imposing than most.

"Look sharp!" He barked. His voice was sharp and nasal, like all of the other Styx, but it had a hardness about it that made James shiver. James snapped to attention, leaving the others looking confused. If the Styx was surprised by this gesture, he certainly didn't show it. The Old Styx walked down the line, looking each of them over with his cold, black eyes. Most fidgeted and looked away, uncomfortable to be under his scrutiny, but James was determined to stand his ground. Nodding briskly, he returned to his original position. He spoke slowly, as if weighing his words before letting them pass his thin lips. "If we have one failing, it is our refusal to see that there are some of you, colonists, are not that different from us, the Styx. There are a choice few who resist us with the passion and fervor that we would expect from our own kind. Think of yourselves as tests. If any are truly capable of upholding our standards without being born into our ranks, you are the ones. So we are giving you a chance. You are standing here because you were either recommended by your families, or a member of our military." He looked at each of them in turn. "Either way, you were told to come prepared for _anything_." He smiled sardonically. "Begin."

Limiters were on them in seconds, their blades flashing viciously. Right off the bat, he saw two of their number fall beneath the onslaught, and turned around just in time to see a Limiter barreling towards him. The man's eyes were full of desperation. He slipped his knife out of it's sheath, sidestepping him as he lunged. Another Limiter tackled him from behind, and he hit the ground with a dull thud. He twisted out of the man's grip as he saw the other cock back his pistol and take aim. Dirt sprayed upwards where the bullet hit the ground, mere inches from his face. He brought up his knife and dug it into the second Limiter's arm, and the man howled like a wounded dog, relinquishing his grip of his opponent. There was a second's hesitation as James brought his knife to the man's throat, but then he remembered Rebecca's words to him the night before: 'The men that you'll fight are desperate. They're outcasts, traitors to the cause. This is their last chance. It's you or them. They're dead men anyway. Don't think twice about killing them; they'd do worse to you if they got the chance.'

He finished the Limiter quickly, not wanting to cause any slower a death than necessary. The other soldier took aim again, and, acting purely on instinct, James threw the fallen Limiter's scythe and struck the gun just as it discharged. He picked up the dead soldier's pistol and took a single shot at the remaining Limiter. It hit the man square in the face, and James winced as a crimson mist filled the air.

"Enough!" The Old Styx ordered. James snapped to attention as the man strode over to him. The Styx looked at him closely. There was no doubt left in his mind now that his granddaughters had trained this recruit at some point; he had seen the boy use several of their signature moves during the fight. He decided that it didn't matter. He turned to the Styx surrounding the perimeter of the courtyard. "Take our friends" -He jerked his head at the remaining Limiters- "to the Hold. I will be with them shortly. As for you, my granddaughter will escort you to your room." With that he walked away to speak with a younger Styx on the side of the courtyard, the one standing beside Rebecca. The Styx snapped something at her in their language and she jumped as if startled, running over to James.

"At ease." She said. James relaxed. "What is your name, soldier?"

"James, Ma'am." He said, meeting her gaze. She nodded briskly.

"Very well, James. This way." She beckoned for him to follow her, and follow her he did, until they were out of earshot. "That was very well done. Wouldn't have changed a thing, although that last part with the scythe was a little risky." She said. He knew that this was without a doubt the closest thing to a compliment that he would get from her, and he smiled.

"Sorry. But that was amazing! For a moment there, I thought you had forgotten who I was! You would make a great actress." She shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face.

"Drama always was my favorite subject. But as for you... two Limiters single-handedly? _That's_ something to be proud of. Most would have died. And all the others did, incase you didn't notice." He nodded.

"Thanks. But you know what would be even better?" She looked at him.

"No, what?" She asked sincerely. He kissed her very quickly, taking a step back incase she flipped out on him. She stood there in shocked silence for a moment, her brain fuzzy. Then she spoke. "Yeah, that works." She said hoarsely. He waited for her to move, but she never did.

"Uh, so, um, you were showing me to my room?" He prompted gently. She shook herself, clearing her thoughts.

"Yes, yes, you're right. This way."


	4. Chapter 4

James was lying on his new bunk, looking up at the ceiling and thinking about the day's events. It felt nice to be able to lie back and relax; in the Rookeries, he hadn't had a roof to sleep under, never mind a bed. His thoughts drifted back to Rebecca. He knew that her and Rachel would be swapping places tomorrow, as they always did on weekends. One on, of off. One up, one down. Living in exile was their job. It still sucked that on his first day as a Styx he would have to put up with Rachel, but it didn't matter much. As long as he did what he was told and kept his head down, he knew he would be fine. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason Rachel behaved very bitterly towards him. And to tell the truth, he didn't much care for her either. He hoped that perhaps spending a bit more time with her might help end that mutual feeling of dislike. But Rebecca! He couldn't begin to fathom how he had gotten away with it. He had kissed a Styx, and somehow, he was still breathing. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he had thought. Rachel seemed like a very small obstacle when compared to what he had already faced. Things were looking up.

"Up and at 'em, boys!" Rachel's voice boomed through the barracks, and James woke with a start. "There was a rebellion in the Rookeries last night. We've got some cleaning up to do." She tapped the scythe at her belt, a small smile gracing her face. There was a flurry of activity as other Styx in the dorm packed up their gear and rushed out the door, following her out into the courtyard. He followed suit, grabbing a pistol from the munitions shelf beside the door. Rachel was standing in the courtyard, flanked by two taller Styx. She looked the soldiers over quickly, making sure everything was in order before she spoke. "As you know, there was an organized revolt in the Rookeries last night. We took care of it of course, but several of the dissidents escaped. Our job is to flush them out and finish the job. I know that some of you might have mixed feelings about attacking former allies-" Her eyes lingered on James, "But I assure you. If I sense any hesitation, any weakness at all, I will snuff it out." With a barely perceptible nod of her head, the Styx on her right began to speak, switching to the scratchy language of their people.

"You five are coming with me. The rest, with Rachel. She'll show you the ropes. Dismissed."

"Open up! Styx!" Rachel shouted, pounding on the door of the pathetic shack. It was large compared to other houses in the Rookeries, but still no larger than a topsoil garage.

"Fuck off! We don't got nothin' ter hide!" Came a harsh voice from inside. It sounded like a man, but James couldn't be sure. Rachel took a deep breath, clearly angry. Then she smiled pleasantly, masking her irritation.

"If you don't have anything to hide, why can't we come in?" She reasoned, all annoyance gone from her voice. There was no answer, and she frowned. "I'm going to count to three. If you don't open the door, we're going to open it for you!" She threatened. There was no response, and the door didn't open. "One.… Two.… Three! That's it, we're coming in. Move away from the door." She signaled with her hand for James to stay low as a single Styx approached the door. James almost laughed as he realized how strange the entire situation was. There he was, once nothing more than a thug from this very sector of the Colony, dressed in the all black uniform of a Styx raid team. He cocked back his pistol and Rachel did the same, training it on the door. The crude wooden barricade gave way easily under the soldier's boot, and Rachel looked to either side of the door before signaling for them to move out. "Clear, clear!"

They entered the house warily. It seemed deserted enough, but under the assumption that the inhabitants had to go _somewhere_, they were being especially careful and searching every room quite thoroughly. They had just finished the basement when James came to a halt on the stairs, listening intently. He beckoned for Rachel to listen as well, and she took a step down. Making sure he had her attention, James jumped down onto the step below, and someone shrieked. Rachel nodded, acknowledging that there were indeed people hiding under the stairs. Just then, something occurred to him.

"The back door!" He hissed urgently. He heard someone gasp beneath the stairs, clearly worried that the Styx were discussing them in their indecipherable language. "Is it covered?" Rachel nodded.

"Yes." The people beneath the stairs stirred again. He sighed in relief.

"May I?" He asked, gesturing to the loose floorboard two steps below him.

"Of course." She replied, smiling sarcastically. As he began to pry back the board, a shot rang out in the back of the house, and he jumped back. Rachel burst into action, ordering her soldiers in such rapid Styx that James failed to catch half of the exchange. Then she turned to him. "You, with me! This way!" She snapped, beckoning for him to follow. The soldiers surrounding her moved in towards the basement, rifles up. He followed her outside, where four Styx had quite forcefully subdued several colonists. The conquered men were kneeling on the ground with their hands on their heads, all but one. This man was on the ground, cradling a severely injured leg. It looked as if the soldiers had shot him multiple times, but James didn't blame them. The man was tall and very well built, more than the others. He was clearly their leader. Rachel strolled over to him, bending over to look him in the eye. He glared at her defiantly and spat, missing her shoe by inches. When she spoke, her voice was a terrifying whisper. "What made you think you could defeat us? You're _nothing_. Do you realize that?" The man continued to glare at her, hatred radiating off him in waves. She shook her head in mock sadness, clicking her tounge in disapproval. "Such a waste." Then, looking him in the eye, she cocked back her pistol and shot him. The others in the group flinched, and she looked over at the soldiers, switching to the language of the Styx: "Take them back to the Hold. Be sure to tell them I'll be paying them a visit." Then she turned to James. "Do you know why I did that? Why I shot him?" She asked. He nodded grimly.

"He had lost too much blood. He wouldn't have lasted anyway." She nodded.

"Exactly. You see? There is a reason behind everything we do, although most colonists tend to ignore that fact. We do what we must. Now come with me. We have a schedule to keep."

_Several days later..._

"So what did I miss?" Rebecca asked, folding her topsoil clothes and placing them neatly in her drawer. James shrugged.

"Aww, nothing much. Just a rebellion in the Rookeries and stuff." He said sarcastically. Rebecca frowned.

"Damn it! Rebellions are my favorite!" She whined. "So how's Rachel? Sparks still flying between you two, or what?" He smiled.

"Not as bad as before. What's her deal, anyway? Why does she hate me?" Rebecca looked thoughtful as she sat down on her bed next to him.

"I don't know, honestly. But it could have something to do with us."

"Us?" He asked. She nodded.

"Us. She's probably just pissed that you picked me over her. I missed you, you know." She added. He nodded. He knew that he couldn't expect much from her. Styx 'PDA', as the topsoilers called it, was incredibly low. But, still, he could hope. After all, her private room in the Garrison wasn't exactly public...

"So you're saying Rachel's jealous?" He suggested. She smiled.

"Yeah. I know I would be, if I were her." He laughed, and she joined in. He leaned in and kissed her, and her response was stronger than he had expected. Apparently she had missed him more than he had thought. He could feel her raven hair brushing his arm as she got closer to him, feel her soft breath on his skin.…

Something clattered to the floor, and the two broke apart with a gasp. Rachel was standing in the doorway, looking absolutely mortified.

"What the-" She spluttered. Then her embarrassment turned to annoyance. "Ugh! I didn't have to see that! This is my room too, you know!" She said angrily. "If you plan on any more of that," -She gestured to the bunk- "your room in the Citadel would be a bit more appropriate! You know, the one that you don't _share with your sister?_" Rebecca looked at the ground, her face bright pink.

"We weren't doing anything like that..." She said awkwardly. Then she looked up, frowning. "And why are you here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be topsoil?" She demanded.

"I forgot my phone." Rachel replied curtly. She walked briskly over to her night table, opened one of the drawers, grabbed her phone, and stormed out without a word.


	5. Chapter 5

Rebecca was sitting in her room in the Styx Citadel, listening to her music and humming along as she sat aimlessly on her bed, fiddling with her hair. For what must have been only the second time in her life, she was actually _bored_. She had nothing to do. Rachel and James had been sent off on a mission to the Deeps several days ago, and she felt completely and utterly useless. They were bringing their late father's plans to life, and quite efficiently. Her father. She closed her eyes as if struck by a wearisome thought.

"Burrows…." She sighed. What were they going to do about him? He had found his way into the colony, and made her look like a fool. She had trusted him to behave like a good little colonist. She had trusted him to accept his new life there with his real family, and what had he done? He had torn her family apart. Her father was dead, and her grandfather was so busy these days that she hardly saw him. Her sister… Bah, she knew that that was out of the question. Rachel seemed completely unbothered by their father's death, and was always off on one mission or another. It was utterly ridiculous. And to make matters worse, she often insisted on dragging James along with her, determined to give him some first hand experience in the deeps. Her Grandfather had told her upon the pair's departure that it was a matter of duty for her to remain at the Citadel. Well, to hell with duty. Duty was boring. So, _so_ boring. Twiddling her thumbs absent-mindedly, she jumped when someone knocked on the door. Who would dare to come to her _here_? Here in the Citadel? The Garrison, yes; but _here_? This was her private room, the one place she didn't have to worry about her sister barging in unannounced. This was her inner sanctum, the one place she knew she could always escape to if things got rough.

_This had better be real damn important._ She thought angrily as she walked over and opened the door. Rachel stood in the doorway, her face gaunt and her eyes tormented. Rebecca didn't need to look twice to know that something had gone wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

"What's happened?" She asked, worried.

"James- he- we… I… sit down." She stuttered. Rebecca's heart twisted. She felt like she was going to be sick.

"What is it?" She asked weakly, sitting down on her bed. Her sister joined her, closing the door behind her. "What's happened to James, why isn't he with you?" Rachel closed her haunted eyes, guilt and sadness radiating off her in waves.

"I lost him. We were at the pore; we were ambushed by renegades… I panicked and lost track of him in the cross fire. He fell." She said. Her voice was flat, all intonation gone from it as grief washed over her. "I lost him. I'm so sorry." Rebecca was speechless. What was there to say? James was dead. She felt like someone had ripped her heart out, leaving a gaping hole in her chest; leaving her there to bleed to death. What was there left to live for? Her dreams had been crushed. She was going to end up just like her mother, giving birth to the child of a stranger that she had never laid eyes upon until nine months before. It seemed like a cruel, cruel joke. But what had she been thinking? What had possessed her to think that she was different? That she was going to live a life she wanted? _No, I'm just like all the rest._ She thought bitterly.

…_.How do you cry,_

_when every tear you shed,_

_won't ever bring him back again,_

_I hate myself for loosing you,_

_Yes I hate myself for loosing you…._

Kelly Clarkson's voice rang out mutinously. Rebecca, her face expressionless, simply raised the remote control for her radio and shut it off, not looking away from her sister's gaunt face. She sighed. Suddenly she looked very old and weary.

"Thank you for telling me Rachel. Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning." She said at last. As she lay back on her bed, she couldn't help but think to herself:

_Tomorrow, we turn thirteen, don't we. Just four years to go until a night in our own personal hell._


	6. Chapter 6

James cursed viciously. He had been wandering around aimlessly for a week, no food, no water, and absolutely no signs of civilization. He was lost. Lost in the seemingly bottomless Pore. He was furious with himself. He had let Rachel down. No, worse; he had let _Rebecca_ down. He was never going to see either of them ever again. What was the point in living anymore? There was nothing left to live for. He was just going to waste away here, lost forever in the darkness. He raised his scythe, holding it close to his face for a closer look as if he was considering something. Maybe he should just end it now, then and there? It would be so easy. He had seen many desperate men do it, cornered by the Styx and knowing what awaited them if they were captured alive. He sighed to himself, taking a deep breath and pressing the blade to his neck. He closed his eyes. And he saw her face. Her happy, smiling face. He lowered the weapon, shaking his head.

_No. I will _not_ let myself stoop to that level._ He thought angrily. _I have to keep going; if not for my sake, then for hers. What now? Shelter?_ He frowned, checking himself. _No, shelter can wait. Water. I need water._

He thought he had heard a small stream bubbling back the way he had came, but had been too depressed and weary to investigate. But now he knew that he needed water _that second_, and the thought that it was so tantalizingly close made his dry mouth water. Cursing his laziness, he began to climb the stiff and unyielding shelf of fungus back to the outcrop he had visited a few hours before. Oh, what an idiot he had been! He wouldn't have to worry about water if he hadn't put down his kit back at the Pore. It had been mere moments before the ambush, and the Styx patrol had been taken a lay back, letting their guard down for just a few crucial seconds. And now, those seconds were making him feel like he was in the ninth level of hell. As he climbed, he thought wistfully of the bottles of sterilized water in his backpack. His backpack that Rachel had probably taken back to the Citadel as proof of his death. Death! He snorted. Rachel was wrong. He wasn't dead yet, nor did he plan to be any time soon. He was going to make it out of this confounded mess, if it was the last thing he did.

"I just can't believe it." Rebecca said despondently, looking over at James' backpack. She had insisted on keeping it in her room, although she knew that he would never need it again in the place he was now. Wherever _that_ was. Rachel frowned.

"'Travellin' Soldier', Rebecca? _The Dixie Chicks?_ Good god! I get it! Your boyfriend is dead, oh no, boo hoo! But that was _five freaking weeks ago_, Rebecca! You need to get over it and get on with your life!" Rachel growled. Rebecca looked up at her with tormented eyes. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch in her head, they suffused with a fiery light.

"Fuck off, Rachel! You're being such a bitch! Get out of my room!" She shouted. Rachel's eyes widened, but she shrugged and walked out. Rebecca watched her go, still fuming. "Who the hell do you think you are, telling me to get over it? That's right, go cry to grandfather! I mean why not?" She snarled after her. _She has no right to do that! James is dead, and it's her fault, god damn it! If she wasn't such an ass, he'd still be alive!_ She thought bitterly. _Yeah, damn right he would. He survived in the Rookeries, and he would have survived here too. But _no one_ survives the pore. No one, because it's impossible. He's dead. Gone. I'm never going to see him again._

"Water!" He croaked, throwing himself into the stream with a shout. The water was cold, but it felt like heaven on his skin compared to the unrelenting heat down here. It was a welcome change. He smelled it carefully, making sure it wasn't contaminated by any chemicals before he gulped some down. He felt stronger almost immediately, and he could almost feel the icy water being carried through his veins. He shivered. Now he was cold. _That's because you're still standing in the stream, you idiot!_ He could almost hear Rebecca's voice reprimanding him. He remembered it with such clarity; feminine, but with that hint of vindictiveness that gave almost every word she said an unexpected edge. There had only been one time that he could remember when she had lost that edge, and that had been that day in her room at the Garrison. He recalled the memory with a smile. He stepped out of the stream, taking off his combat jacket and shirt and snagging them on a rock to dry. Then he looked around, searching for something that he could transform into a shelter of some type. He found it in the form of a small cave just off the fungal shelf, and went in to investigate. He frowned. He could hear howling in the distance.

_Wolves, down here? Surely not._ He remembered the name from his lessons on Topsoil biology, and found it extremely odd that they should be all the way down in the pore. Just as the thought occurred to him, a wolf came pelting out of the shadows. At first he thought it was coming for him, and he threw himself aside, but the terrified animal continued on it's course out of the cave. He stood up, watching it's retreating form. _Not coming after me,_ he thought. _so if it's not running after me, that that must mean…_ He swallowed. _That means it's running away from something else. But what?_ His question was soon answered as an older woman emerged from the darkness, carrying a crossbow on her back.

"Gosh darn it, where'd you go you wretched little thing?" She raved, not seeming to notice him. She had red hair, cut short and going gray around the roots. He estimated that she was somewhere in her forties, although he couldn't be entirely sure. He coughed. She turned to look at him. "Hello there dearie. And who might you be?" Her voice was hoarse, as if it was rarely used.

"My name is James. My patrol and I got separated on the edge of the Pore. Do you know any way for me to-" The old lady's eyes narrowed.

"So you're a wretched little Styx, are you? You don't look like a Styx." She growled. Sensing that it was not the right time to acknowledge the truth in her accusation, he shook his head.

"Me, a Styx? No. I'm a renegade." The old lady smiled at him.

"Oh, well that's nice. You know I once had a son? He looked just like you, with that blond hair and green eyes. Nathanial was his name. About your age, too." Picking up on the past tense, James frowned.

"Had? What happened to him?" He asked. The old lady looked sad.

"He died of fever."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"My name is Martha, by the way. Come, lets fix you something to eat, my dearest boy." James followed her warily.

_Dearest boy?_ He thought to himself with a shiver. _Creepy._


	7. Chapter 7

"So what brings you all the way out here, dearie?" Martha asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness. James cringed. He had been staying with her for a week, and was planning his escape. The old lady was truly insane. She had, much to his alarm, taken to calling him 'my son' and 'my precious boy'. From the way she treated him, he could only come to one conclusion: He was the replacement for her dead son, and if he didn't get out soon, that position would be permanent. He shivered. No, he had to do something. He was going to get back to Rebecca and Rachel, even if it meant killing the mad old lady in the process. He had done worse in the past. He remembered with quite disturbing clarity that incident in the Hold, when Rachel had insisted that he sat in on a Dark Light session with Will. She had told him that she wanted to give him some first hand experience. At first it had been sickening to him, watching Will scream in agony like that. But after a while, after Will's uncle had killed the twins' father, he had enjoyed Chester's very much. He had even participated, to some extent. And he had enjoyed it. Yes, he could definetly handle killing Martha.

"I already told you." He said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I was with my friends down by the pore and the Styx ambushed us. They got away, but I fell back into the Pore." Martha nodded.

"Yes, yes, that sounds familiar." She said, shaking her head wearily. "I'm going to go make tea, my son. Just stay right there. Stay put, okay? We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now would we?"

Rachel stepped into Rebecca's room, staring her down as the music her sister was listening to reached her ears. "Rebecca?" Her sister just looked at her listlessly, then tapped the bed. Understanding, Rachel sat down next to her and listened to the song. She looked at Rebecca. She was a shadow, no, _echo_, of her former self. Her eyes were sad, and as she looked at the ground, Rachel saw her sigh in defeat. As the song came to an end, Rachel put her arm around her sister's shoulder comfortingly, scooting in closer to her. "Rebecca, I get it. I know this is really hard for you. But you can't let it ruin your life. You have to move on. It's been six weeks." She said softly. "He's not coming back." Rebecca looked at her, her onyx eyes dull.

"I know. But I can't. I feel like he's out there somewhere, but I know he's not." Rachel watched as a single tear rolled down her face, then more followed. "It's making me sick, not knowing..." She sobbed. Rachel pulled her into a tight hug, letting her sister cry on her shoulder.

"It's alright. Just get it all out now. It's okay." She said quietly. After Rebecca's crying had stopped, Rachel let go, looking her in the eyes. "Listen to me. I need you to cheer up, for me, okay? We're going to the Deeps next weekend. Will's been spotted, and they should be finished with Dominion by then. How does that sound? Getting revenge on Will?" Rebecca just stared at her. Rachel blinked. Then Rebecca nodded, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah. Sounds great." She said sincerely. Rachel grinned, patting her on the shoulder.

"That's more like the Rebecca I know. Want me to stay for a while?"

"No, I'm okay, thanks. I think I'm actually going to go train for a while, if you want to come. This whole depression thing has left me a bit out of shape." Rachel nodded, a huge smile on her face. Maybe she hadn't lost her sister after all.

"Hell yeah. Now you're talking!"

_This is my chance._ James thought as he watched Martha shuffle out of the room._ If she comes back in while I'm getting out, I'll just clock her one. Right over the head. Not kill her. Just knock her out or something._ He got up, using his Limiter training to sneak across the room without a sound. He could see the door. He was so close. All he had to do now was get there. _It shouldn't be too hard. All I've got to do make sure she stays in the kitchen-_ He jumped. Someone had grabbed his shoulders, and he heard a hiss of anger from behind him as Martha realized what he had been trying to do. He whipped around to face her as he felt her landing blows on his head and shoulders. His eyes widened in alarm. Her face was twisted into a vile, angry mask; she looked deranged. He gasped as she managed to hit him in the stomach, then he pushed her away.

"Get off me, you crazy old bitch!" He snarled. The old lady renewed her attack, but she was weak and now that she didn't have surprise on her side, it was easy to neutralize her. He walked out, leaving her unconscious. "Oh, and incase you haven't figured it out, I'm a Styx. I was all along. Good bye, Martha." He hissed over his shoulder.

"Whew, that was tiring." Rebecca panted. Rachel laughed.

"Becs, when was the last time you've been to the gym?" Rebecca looked thoughtful.

"Before James left." She said at last. "Funny, I hardly remember the day when he did." Rachel patted her on the back.

"That's a good thing." She said. Then she smiled devilishly. "So what do you say we go to the Hold and take care of some of our guests?" Rebecca nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds fun. I haven't been to an interrogation in a long time." Rachel nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, ever since we banished Chester, we haven't had many. Sometimes I wish people would rebel more often, you know? Just for the fun of it?" Rebecca smiled at her sister's evil comment, then laughed.

"Yay for sadism, eh?" She teased. Then she became serious, looking at her sister carefully as if trying to figure her out. "Rachel, what's going on? You never used to give a flying pennybun about what I do with my time, and now you're dying to spend every second with me. What's up with that?" Rachel shrugged.

"Why do I have to explain myself to you? I just want to spend some time with my sister." She said. Rebecca raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Rachel sighed. "Okay, fine. Do you really want to know?" Rebecca nodded. "Fine. I, uh, kinda tripped over the laundry on my way out this weekend." Rebecca gave her sister a strange look.

"What?" Rachel shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. She failed.

"I came out this weekend, and all the people I thought were my friends hate me." Rebecca looked at her sister sympathetically.

"That sucks."

"You don't care?" Rachel asked, surprised. Rebecca nodded.

"Of course I don't. You're my sister." She took Rachel's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "You can live your life the way you want to, even if I don't understand why." Rachel blinked gratefully, smiling.

"Thanks." She said.

"Oh, and if those so-called 'friends' of yours ever need a beating, let me know." Rebecca said, grinning. Rachel laughed.

"Will do."

"Hey, Rebecca, check this out!" Luke urged from across the class. Rebecca groaned. Ever since James had gone missing and she had recovered from her severe depression, he had taken to her like a fish to water. And although she thought it was really sweet that he was interested, she just wasn't ready to get involved in another relationship yet. Her last boyfriend had died. _Died._

"Wow, cool." She said, not even bothering to look over at him. She heard him sigh, and was suddenly assaulted by a wave of guilt._Aw, what harm could it do? I won't let it go too far._ She told herself. She looked up. "Can you do it again? That was pretty cool." She saw him beam at her, then played the solo again. She smiled. The sheer innocence radiating off of him was kind of cute. And then on top of that, she knew that he wasn't innocent at all. But she liked that. Nothing was better than a little of both, in her opinion. Her heart ached as she remembered how James had made her feel when he smiled; her legs had turned into jelly. She shook her head, forcing the thought to the back of her mind. _No. I'm not even going to go there. Not this time. He's not coming back. There will never be another person like him, but I have to move on._

The bell rang, and she gathered up her books and headed to her room.

"Hey, wait!" She turned around. He was waving, trying to get her attention. Her heart twisted. _James used to do that all the time._ She thought to herself. He caught up, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Hey, I was thinking, um, I'm on patrol in the Deeps tomorrow. Would you want to come? I mean, like, you know...?" She looked at him blankly. Was he really asking her that? After everything she had been through? After what had happened there, in the Deeps? After what she had lost in the very area he would be patrolling? She was about to say no and walk away when a thought occurred to her. _Maybe this would help me? Maybe I should go, just to get some closure?_

"Yeah, sure." She said, nodding. His face lit up.

"Great! I'll see you then!" She watching him go, then sighed guiltily. She was using him, and she knew it.

_All's fair in love and war._ She thought sadly. _I just wish I didn't mean it literally._


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm going to ask you one more time. If you refuse to answer, you're going to loose a finger, got it?" Rebecca threatened, twirling her already blood soaked scythe irritably. "Do you or do you not know the man called Drake?" Her voice was as cold as ice. She frowned. "So that's how it is. You want to play games with me?" She snarled, slashing the weapon across the man's exposed chest. He screamed until his lungs ran out of air. It was a superficial wound, not aimed to kill. It was one of her many specialties when it came to interrogations. She could keep her subjects going for hours, making sure that their lives were never truly in danger, but keeping them just on the brink. "Then let's play games." She whispered, smiling cruelly. "One more time. Do you know of the whereabouts of the man called Drake?" The man just stared at her. She turned to the limiter, uttering a few quick words in Styx. The soldier was at the renegade's side in seconds, prying his hand away from his side and holding it steadily in front of him. She twirled her weapon again, bringing it to rest at the base of his index finger. "You loose." She whispered, narrowing her eyes. The man began to struggle madly, terrified, but the Limiter was too strong. He held the man's hand steady, and she was about to make good on her threat when a shot rang out and the man went limp. Their military training and years in the line of duty kicking in, the soldiers threw themselves to the ground. But she knew perfectly well that the shot hadn't been intended for the Styx. No, someone had been attempting to put the prisoner out of his misery. "Will…" She growled, looking up at the rocky outcrop where he and Elliot were hiding. She knew it was him because she could see his brilliant white hair even from there. _And Will never goes anywhere without his gal pal, now does he._ She thought to herself, smiling as she realized that he had seen her through his scope. He was transfixed, like a deer in the headlights. She waved.

He ran.

The Limiters opened fire, peppering the outcrop with bullets. They had untied their attack dogs, Stalkers, during the silence before the short exchange, and now allowed them to race ahead as they chased after their enemy. Knowing that she was safe, she turned back to her prisoner.

"Please." The man croaked. "I don't know anything." Rebecca froze. She knew that voice. Rachel had brought back the security footage from that day at the pore, and she had heard the audio clearly enough. Her mind clouded with rage, but her eyes shone with triumph as her anger subsided. Before her stood the man that was responsible for James' death. And he was completely and utterly defenseless. The Limiters had left, and it occurred to her that that meant she didn't have to follow protocol. She had free reign. She could do whatever she wanted, and no one was there to stop her. No one to say that she wasn't allowed to finish him off once she was done with him. She smiled. Worried by her silence, the man spoke up. "Are you going to let me go?" He asked. Rebecca laughed, but her eyes were cold, as if he had offended her.

"Really?" She asked quietly. He flinched as she took a step forward, and she smiled cruelly. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to _kill_ you. No, that would be a waste. I'm definitely not going to kill you." She examined her nails casually, and then looked up at him. "At least not yet."

_three weeks later…_

James was standing in the center plaza of New Germania. He was in a bad way, and he knew it. In his desperate attempts to escape the pore, he had pushed himself to limits that he had never known he had. He was extremely dehydrated, and had been assaulted by a renegade on his way through the Garden of the Second Sun, who had given him a wonderful going away present in the form of a bullet to his shoulder. He was already attracting plenty of attention from the locals, wearing nothing but his worn out Limiter pants and his combat boots as he stood in the street. He didn't even have the infamously useful Styx adaptation gene on his side, which meant that instead of giving him a nice tan, the sun was turning him into a lobster. Being shirtless, he was sure that the lattices of scars on his back were also quite a spectacle. All of this, plus the fact that he was armed with a pistol, scythe, and a Limiter's rifle, were only adding to his image. Soon enough, soldiers pulled up and surrounded him, their rifles trained on his bare chest. He carefully placed his weapons on the ground, putting his hands over his head.

"Please, I need a doctor. Tell your men to stand down." He enunciated in flawless German. The soldier looked worried.

"What are you?" He asked shakily, keeping his pistol pointed at James' chest.

"I'm a soldier, just like you." James assured him. "Please, I'm hurt, I need help. A doctor. Please. This is not an act of aggression. I need help." The man sneered, and two men came up on James from behind, twisting his arms up behind his back.

"A doctor, eh? You need a doctor?" He jeered. "You'll get your doctor. After you stand trial for crimes against the state!"

"Rebecca, please. I need you to listen to me. I need you to move on! I know how much you loved him and I understand that you miss him but for my sake, please! I care about you, and I need you to move on so that you can see that! I love you. Please." Luke urged. She stared at him listlessly. What was he asking of her? What more _could_ he ask?

"This court finds you guilty of all charges, and hereby sentences you to three years community service in the form of military enrollment."

"What?" She asked.

"Move on. I _love_ you. Please… For me."

"I… I…" She stammered.

Do you accept these charges and agree to remain here in New Germania to serve your sentence?" James just stared at him. He sighed, defeated.

She looked into his eyes, so warm and full of love. But she couldn't meet his gaze. She looked away.

"Okay." She whispered.

"I do." He croaked.


	9. Chapter 9

Luke kissed her then, and it was awkward and uncomfortable. Then she forced herself to relax as best she could, trying to convince herself that it wasn't too bad. At least she would know the father of her son or daughter some day. _Not like Rachel._ She thought sadly. _Poor Rachel. A child she doesn't want, with a partner that doesn't suit her. That's going to suck._ Then she checked herself. _But then again, survival isn't always a guarantee with this job, now is it. Maybe neither of us will even make it to sixteen._ She thought bitterly. _It's not as if anyone would care, anyway. We wouldn't be missed. Damn our people and their indifference._ Someone called his name from outside the tent, and Luke broke away, smiling at her and still holding her shoulders. There was so much warmth and love in his eyes that it made her wish she loved him... But she knew she didn't.

"Gotta go, Becs. Good luck with the whole Ambush-Will-At-The-Pore thing. I'm afraid I wasn't invited!"

And with that, he left.

"Here's your uniform. What's your name, anyway?" The man snapped, throwing a green uniform over his shoulder at James. James caught it, hesitating.

"Uh, Franz." He said at last. "The name's Franz." He had heard the name in one of the boring documentaries he had been forced to watch during his classes in the Citadel, and decided it had a distinctly German ring to it. The man gasped.

"Franz? _Franz?_" He said incredulously. "Gott in Himmel, it's Franz! You survived!" The man bellowed. Whispers of excitement rippled through the soldiers in the barrack, and James began to wonder what all the fuss was about.

"Hell, of course I survived! I'm stronger than I look, you know!" He said gruffly, deciding it would be best to play along for now. I was beginning to think that maybe choosing the name Franz wasn't such a bad idea after all. He was overcome by a wave of soldiers, all congratulating him and trying to shake his hand.

"Franz!"

"It's Franz! He survived!"

"He's alive!" The lead soldier held up his hands, looking irritated.

"Give him some space, give him some space!" He demanded. Deciding it wasn't worth facing his anger, the soldiers backed off. Then he turned to James. "God, man! Why didn't you say so? Here, give me that. No commander of mine is going to parade himself around in a recruit's uniform!" He said, snatching the green uniform from James' hands and giving him a sand colored one instead. James took it gratefully, pulling on the coat. It was made of light material, and it _breathed_. "Cotton." He murmured. But he didn't care about any of that. He had a shirt on his back. He had _clean clothes._ And apparently, he was a hero of war. The man dug around in his pocket, pulling out several multicolored patches. He handed them to James, then carefully fastened a pin to his jacket. It was a tiny golden eagle, with the letters P.O.W engraved on it in miniscule print. "Here you go." He said, closing James' hand around the patches with a smile. "Go down to the tailor's. He'll sew those on for you. You deserve them, after everything you've been through!" James grinned as the man thumped him on the back. Even though he knew it wasn't true, he felt as if someone was finally acknowledging his incredible feats in the Pore and the Garden of the Second Sun. He was struck by a sudden wave of sadness as he remembered Rebecca, flashing him that dazzling smile on her way out of her room in the Citadel. Her laugh, her voice, everything about her. He missed her so, _so_, much. But he was stuck here whether he liked it or not, and he might as well make the most of it. He would return to her someday, but for now... he was home.


	10. Chapter 10

_The next day..._

"Gone." Luke whispered tonelessly. "Just like that. Gone." He couldn't believe he had lost both of the girls in one day. Of course, he would only really miss one of them. Apparently he had said or done something to offend Rachel earlier, and she had been quite a bitch ever since. No, he would _definitely_ not miss Rachel. But Rebecca! He would definitely miss Rebecca. She had been a great friend, and when she felt like showing it, a little bit more. He had no doubt in his mind that she had never really loved him the way that she had loved that James fellow, but she had seemed happy enough and that was okay with him. He would miss her horribly. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and he turned around. The old Styx was standing there, staring at him with those cold black eyes.

"What are you doing soldier? Get back to work, or you can join those unfortunate souls who were just executed for incompetence." His voice was like ice, and it cut right through Luke, right through to his heart. And like ice, it slowly took over, freezing him down to the very core until he became numb with fear and had no choice but to buckle beneath the man's authority and submit.

"Yes, sir. Right away sir." The old Styx nodded to himself as he watched the conquered youth speed away in the direction of the group of Limiters at the edge of the Pore. That was the Dark Light for you. Not known to anyone but him and a few choice others, at the age of three all Styx faced the Dark Light. During these sessions, trigger words or experiences were planted in their minds that allowed him to control them. For example, as he very well knew, Luke's trigger word was 'soldier'. The Styx almost never addressed each other in such a way, so it was safe to assume that the boy's subliminal programming would never be activated by accident. When faced with this word, he young man would be overcome by a crushing sense of fear and hopelessness unless it was immediately followed by orders. Obeying those orders would alleviate the stress of these emotions, and therefor he would obey quite willingly. The old Styx almost chuckled as he recalled the brilliance of the programming that his twin granddaughters had implanted in Will. His own last name, when spoken in Styx, would activate a suicidal habit that the twins had deemed a 'necessary precaution' should Will ever escape the Colony. After hearing this word, whenever faced with a large drop, he would have an overwhelming urge to throw himself from it. As Rebecca had said, 'Next time he faces a drop... _poof_. No more Will!'

_Several weeks later..._

Rachel was sitting next to Elliott, watching her sleep. The girl was incredibly pale, and honestly, Rachel was worried for her. She tried to deny it, tried to push her feelings away... She had fought tooth and nail to keep herself from thinking about this damn renegade since the day she'd arrived at the Shack, but now, watching helplessly as the girl's condition rapidly deteriorated, she couldn't possibly ignore them any more. There was no use denying Rachel admired her skills and her bravery... and she was surprisingly pretty... for a rebel. Elliott was a year older than her, and her face had an almost cat-like beauty about it. And although Rachel knew that Elliott was a renegade, she couldn't help but think that she sure looked one hell of a lot like a Styx.

"Let's get you washed up." She muttered, crinkling her nose in disgust as she realized that Elliott probably hadn't had a wash in days. "I'll be back."

She went off in search of something she could use to wash Elliott's grime-streaked face, finding it in the form of a bottle of iodine, which she mixed with some water to sterilize it. Using a rag from the girl's makeshift stretcher, she washed Elliott's face, then changed her into a fresh set of clothes. She only bothered because she knew that Chester and Will never would; being boys, they had no problem with wearing the same clothes for months. Well, Elliott would be doing no such thing, not if she had anything to say about it. It was bad enough putting up with the stench of two teenage boys; Elliott would not be adding to that any time soon. Once she was finished, she busied herself heating up some broth, hoping to push the incident to the back of her mind. She'd always known that she liked girls, but _Elliott_? A renegade? That was downright ridiculous. She sat down, massaging her temples and closing her eyes. This was pathetic. She was a Styx, for christ's sake; she had always considered herself to be above such trivial and meaningless things as love. But it wasn't love yet, not by a long shot, and in this she took comfort. _Just a... what did they call it again? Ah, yes. A crush. It's just a crush. It'll pass._

Rachel opened her eyes, looking at the renegade before her. She glanced over at Chester's rifle, leaning up against the wall; _I could kill her, right now,_ she realized, her eyes widening slightly. She bit her lower lip nervously, unable to tear her eyes from the gun. It was right there. _I could kill the bitch right now. All it would take is one shot. I'd be gone before they even knew what happened._

She looked back at Elliott, as if hoping to find something that would help her make her decision; she was looking for something to hate, something that would make this easier, something that would make her feel justified in what she was about to do...

...She found nothing.

Just a fifteen year-old girl, sleeping peacefully on a makeshift stretcher, short cropped black hair striking a strangely beautiful chord with her pale skin. She looked helpless, innocent, frail, even... everything that she was not.

Rachel looked at the rifle, then at Elliott, then back at the rifle.

_Come on, do it. Just pick it up and pull the trigger. Do it!_

She shook her head. _No. I don't want to... I won't._ then, hastily, as if trying to fool herself, _not yet, at least._

Her train of thought was shattered as Chester burst through the door, snatching up his rifle; she jumped to her feet, instinctively backing up a few steps.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded, gesturing furiously at Elliott.

Rachel held up her hands, as if trying to assure him. "Nothing. I just cleaned her up, that's all." she informed him shakily, her pounding heart sending adrenaline coursing through her veins. If he had come in a moment earlier...

She watched as he caught sight of the small fire burning in the corner of the bridge. "Then what the heck is that? What are you playing at?"

"I'm heating up some broth for Elliott. I thought you might like some too." she replied quietly, doing her best to keep her voice steady. She walked her way through the rest of the conversation easily enough, waiting until both he and Will had left the room before slumping back against the metal shell of the ship, crossing her arms. She sighed in exasperation, letting her head fall back against the the wall.

This was going to be a lot harder than she'd thought.


	11. Chapter 11

Rachel spent as much time as she could with Elliott, when the boys weren't buzzing around the sick girl like stupid insects. Will seemed convinced that Elliott had feelings for him, as did that moron Chester. But Rachel was determined to keep that from happening. If Elliott ever woke up, it would be _her_, not Chester and definitely, _definitely_, not that blundering oaf Will. She spent every one of her waking moments at Elliott's side, talking to her and telling her the day's events. They were keeping the girl on a steady dose of antibiotics, and her condition was improving. Soon Elliott was able to sit up by herself and have a conscious conversation. Rachel was the first to witness this one night, when Elliott sat up and asked for a drink. Overjoyed, Rachel jumped up from her seat and ran to get her something. She handed Elliott the cup of water, and watched in silent joy as she drank it unaided.

"How do you feel?" Rachel asked quietly.

"Good." Elliott replied. "Who are you?"

"My name is Rachel. Elliott, did you know that we're both speaking in Styx right now?" Elliott looked surprised.

"No, sounds like english to me." Rachel nodded.

"Interesting." She said, looking thoughtful. "Do you know where you are?"

"No, but it's strange." Elliott said. "I feel like I know you from somewhere. Like I've seen your face before. I dreamt about you! I heard your voice! We were at the Pore." Rachel seemed uncomfortable, shifting in her seat.

"Yes... The Pore. I was there." She said carefully.

"Really? Could you tell me about it? I don't remember much." Rachel blinked.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Well, the Styx had you pinned down at the Pore. And, um, they offered you a deal but you wouldn't take it. So they shelled you, until you fell back into the Pore." Elliott nodded.

"Hm. Sounds familiar now that I think about it." She said. "Yes, I definitely remember that now."

"Good to hear it." Rachel said half heartedly.

"You took care of me, didn't you? I remember. You told me stories, and gave me new clothes. You fed me and washed my hair when I couldn't do it myself." She paused, her eyes widening as something occurred to her. "And- And you're a Styx! You're a Styx aren't you!" Rachel tensed, but decided that telling the truth was her best course of action.

"Yes Elliott, I'm a Styx." She said. "But I don't want to hurt you." Elliott looked at her suspiciously.

"How do I know you aren't lying to me?" She demanded.

_Because I love you._ Rachel wanted to say. But instead, she simply replied, "Because I'm not. And if I was going to hurt you I would have already done it." Elliott narrowed her eyes.

"Okay. I'm going to believe you. But I'm telling you now, I keep a gun under my pillow so don't try anything." Rachel smiled, taking a handgun out of her pocket.

"This one?" She said, smiling devilishly. Elliott blinked. "Aw, don't worry, I'm not going to shoot you. Here, take it. I've got one in my bag anyway." Elliott took the gun from Rachel's outstretched hand, looking at her as if trying to figure her out.

"You're pretty smart, for a Styx." She said at last. "How'd you know that was there?"

"Because I do the same thing." Rachel replied, gesturing to her sleeping bag on the ground. "You and I aren't all that different, Elliott." Elliott rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, sure. But I'm not a sadist like you are."

"Me, a sadist? Nah. Elliott, listen to me. If there's one thing people tend to conveniently overlook when it comes to the Styx, it's that we _do what must be done_, and nothing more. You really think I _enjoy_ washing blood out of my clothes every other hour? And don't even get me started on my hands. What a pain in the ass." Elliott wasn't really sure what to think. Why did this Styx girl feel as if she had to explain herself to a simple renegade? And more, why on earth did she think Elliott wanted to hear it? She had suffered endlessly at the hands of the Styx; forgiveness was out of the question. But at the same time, there was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind, urging her to listen. Part of her _wanted_ to believe the girl standing before her and pleading her case. And that was another thing. Rachel didn't seem to be pleading, begging for forgiveness. She seemed completely at home, standing behind the actions of her people wholeheartedly and telling _their_ side of the story. It was all very confusing.

"This is all a bit much." Elliott said. "I'm going to sleep." Rachel nodded.

"Goodnight."

Elliott opened one eye, peering up at the Styx standing over her. "Uh.… Rachel?" There was something she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the right words. It was starting to bother her. Rachel looked up.

"Yes?"

Elliott silently cursed herself for being so tounge tied, instead saying the first thing that came into her mind: "Remember the gun." Rachel grinned.

"Gotcha."


	12. Chapter 12

Slowly but surely, Elliott began to warm to the Styx girl. She seemed different somehow, a league apart from her monstrous allies. They often talked for hours, and strangely, Rachel brought up the topic of boys an awful lot. Elliott seemed completely uninterested in discussions of this sort, but Rachel wasn't yet sure if it was because Elliott really wasn't interested, or just didn't trust her with such information. Either way, the two were becoming the best of friends. They were the strangest of pairs, a Styx and a renegade, living together peacefully and enjoying each other's company. But Rachel knew that the relationship was to be short lived.

Lying in her sleeping bag one night, it occurred to her exactly how short short really was. They were leaving for the wolf caves tomorrow. That meant that if everything had gone as planned, Rebecca and the Limiters would be waiting to ambush them just outside of the sub. It meant the moment she was dreading was just around the corner. The moment when she would have to let her true colors shine through and join her sister. The moment when she would have to betray Elliott. But she couldn't.

Not without saying goodbye.

Careful not to disturb Martha or the boys, she crept over to Elliott's stretcher and gently roused the girl from her sleep.

"Wha- Rachel?" She murmured, still half asleep.

"Listen to me Elliott. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget that I care about you. That will _never_ change." Then, not even pausing to think about the action and it's potential consequences, she leaned over and planted a kiss right on Elliott's lips.

"Did you just-" Elliott stammered. Rachel blinked.

"Yeah, I think I did." She said quietly.

"Why?" Elliott asked, having recovered from the initial shock. Rachel looked at her, trying to find the right words.

"Because I like you, Elliott. I like you a lot." She said sincerely. Elliott just stared at her. She had no idea what to think. There was no doubt in her mind that she definitely cared about Rachel. But... But what? She, like most girls her age, had imagined her first kiss thousands of times. Who, when, why, and what it would feel like. But never, _never_, had she imagined she would kiss another girl, never mind a Styx. Or that she would enjoy such a thing.

"Really?" Elliott asked, looking up at the girl kneeling over her. Rachel nodded.

"I really do." She repeated. Rachel's eyes widened as Elliott leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She had come to say goodbye, expecting anger and disgust and maybe even hate. But she had found acceptance and caring and... and _confusion_. How could she possibly bring herself to betray Elliott after this?

"I know what you have to do." Elliott said, as if reading her thoughts. "You have to go back to them. But when you do, I want you to take that with you. Don't forget to remember me, okay?" she asked, smiling.

"I will." Rachel promised, grinning. _Forever._

_3 months later..._

"Damn it Rachel, you've been careless." Elliott muttered, following the Styx girl's trail through the woods in the garden of the second sun. She stopped in a small clearing to top off her canteen, and whirled around when she heard someone speak. Rachel was leaning against a tree on the edge of the clearing, her arms crossed and a crooked smile on her face.

"Not careless," She said, strolling over to Elliott triumphantly, "_Sneaky._" Elliott grinned.

"Well then, Mrs. Sneaky, you do realize I have to kill you now, right?" She teased.

"I don't think so. I got you good this time." Rachel said, smiling. It was a game they played, each trying to catch the other off guard while doing their daily patrols of the woods. Elliott normally won, but that was only because Rachel knew that when Elliott won, _she_ usually ended up with a consolation prize of sorts. But Rachel was in a hurry today, and so had decided to show Elliott who was boss.

"Oh really?" Elliott asked, her hand shooting out to where she had left her rifle. Her hand closed on empty air, and she smiled, putting her hands over her head in mock surrender. "Okay, you got me. What do you want, anyway?" Rachel looked at her, grinning.

"Well duh. I want you."

"The one thing you're not allowed to have." Elliott noted with a smile.

"Naturally."

"Perfect." Elliott muttered. The twins were in the water, just as she had intended them to be. She had shown Rachel the shelter several days before, knowing that Styx took to water like birds to the sky. She would know, with her being half Styx and all. And now she could make Will think that she had killed them without injuring anything but their pride. All they would have to do would be duck under the water when the charges went off.

At least that had been the plan.

But no, Will just had to be the hero.

She watched in horror as he began to creep along the edge of the camp, reaching the twins' jackets and searching through their many pockets until he found the virus. He began to backtrack, heading for the entrance from which he had come.

Then disaster struck.

Looking back, it was one of those events that Elliott replayed over and over in her head, wishing things had been different but knowing she couldn't have changed a thing. Elliott watched as Rachel got out of the pool, and, despite the extremity of the situation, had to look away to avoid staring at her. _Focus._ Elliott urged herself. _Not now. This is serious._

Rachel made her way over to where her jacket lay crumpled on the ground, shrieking in surprise when she saw Will. But her surprise soon gave way to anger as she realized what he was trying to do. "You little creep!" She shouted, raising her scythe over her head as if to throw it at him. Elliott's eyes widened as she saw Will whip around and open fire with his sten machine gun.

"Will no don't!" She cried desperately, but was too late. She heard Rachel cry out in agony as a single bullet tore through her side and she crumpled to the ground. "God damn it, Will!" She growled, working the bolt of her rifle furiously as she tried to get a fix on the Limiter now pursuing Will. She only just managed to pick him off, her mind on Rachel. Would she survive? She had been shot near her stomach, and wounds like that were deadly more often than not. Rebecca sprinted across the clearing, firing a single shot from her handgun in Will's direction as she grabbed her unconscious sister and dragged her back to the water. Elliott pushed the detonator. There was a resounding _woosh_ as all the air was sucked from the clearing, then an ear-shattering _BANG_ as the entire place went up in flames. Even from her vantage poin on the cliffs, Elliott could feel the intense heat radiating from the inferno below. She could only pray the twins had made it in time. If they hadn't... She swallowed.

_I could have just killed Rachel! I could have killed them both!_


	13. Chapter 13

_The next day ..._

"Who are you?" The young soldier barked at Rebecca. She turned to look at the soldier, who she assumed was the commanding officer. He was in his teens, around her age, with blonde hair and stunning green eyes. His face was very familiar somehow. Very, _very_, familiar. "Who are you?" He repeated. The two girls looked so familiar to him. They brought him back to his days in the colony; Rebecca, and her sister Rachel. He missed them so much. But these girls couldn't possibly be them. They were older.

"My sister needs a doctor." Rebecca said. James frowned._ Definitely_ not Rachel or Rebecca. This Styx's voice was silky and persuasive; more mature than the twins'. He was completely transfixed by the geometry of her face. The slope of her cheekbones was so steep that it was almost inhuman, but at the same time feminine and bewitching. She blinked, and he looked away, embarrassed. He realized now that he had been checking her out without intending to, and to cover his up this overwhelming sense of embarrassment, he ordered his troops to advance. A streak of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a crashing peal of thunder as the storm raged overhead and the Styx girl took a step back, making a last-ditch attempt to shield her sister from further harm. He kept his pistol trained steadily on her chest, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. Mixed feelings though he had about killing them in their clearly weakened state, he knew that he had to in order to ensure the safety of himself and his men.

Despite herself and all she had been through in the past few weeks, what she had seen and done to reach this point, Rebecca was broken. She didn't want to fight anymore. For the first time in her life, she didn't have anything witty to say, nothing to combat the anguish and fear bubbling up inside her. She felt a single tear roll down her cheek, indistinguishable from the downpour that was soaking her to the bone. She had come all this way, and for what? Only to be shot in the streets like animals, put down because they had fallen from grace. Her eyes began to well up with tears, and she closed her eyes, defeated. There was nothing she could do. They had come all this way for nothing.

As he continued to advance, James realized that his soldiers were no longer behind him. They had stopped several paces back, staring at something just on the horizon.

Rebecca looked up, and a grin spread across her face. Limiters! "Impeccable timing." she muttered, trying not to laugh as she looked at the dumbfounded New Germanian soldiers. They were standing there, like deer in the headlights, staring at the Limiters. Some of them had massive attack dogs, Stalkers, which were making ungodly noises and struggling against their leashes. But the soldiers weren't looking at the dogs. They were transfixed by the Limiter's death's-head faces, their eyes so dark that they could have been drilled out.

James' eyes widened. Limiters! What were they doing all the way down here? Half of him wanted to shout out in joy; he recognized some of them from his days in the Garrison. Jacob, and his brother Jack. And was that Reggie in the back row? He couldn't tell from this distance. But the other half of him was screaming for him to run. To put as much distance as he could between himself and these brutally efficient soldiers. He chose neither, instead choosing a path that went entirely against his self preservation instincts as the soldiers lined up, their rifles trained on him and his men.

"Tell these men to stand down." He demanded, looking at the girl now standing confidently in front of him.

"Not likely." She said coldly. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. These men are Limiters. And although you and your men might not be able to see them, there are sniper detachments on the rooftops. If you and your men so much as _think_ of firing..." She trailed off, knowing that the threat had had the desired effect. James' hand wavered, and he let it drop to his side, nodding. The Styx valued courage to some degree, but he knew for a fact that they didn't value stupidity. And right now the smart thing to do was surrender. She gave him a fleeting smile, as if glad he had seen sense at last. "I'm going to bring up two men. One's a medic for my sister. She's dying from a stomach wound. This is not an act of aggression, so tell your men to hold their fire." She ordered, as if speaking to one of her own subordinates. He almost smiled. He was alive so far.

Things were looking up.


End file.
